Virtue to Vice
by justcallmeLuna
Summary: In a post-WW3 AU universe a totalitarian state the APH boys found a queercore band – the members are secret. Music and rebellion. War in the background. Rated for language and themes


**Please read the AN after ****reading the fiction! ;) Really, the third paragraph is ****very**** important.**

**Since English is not my native language, there is a possibility that there are typos, misspellings or weird grammar – if you find something wrong, please be kind to correct them.**

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**Prologue**

A tall blonde man stood at the window of an ordinary skyscraper's 215th floor apartment, looking at the scenery beneath him. He shook his head by the sight of a huge white board on the wall of another building in front of him:

**Loyalty is unity**

**power is justice**

**peace is freedom**

He drank a sip from a can of beer in his hand, while he leaned to the frame of the big window. He sighed loudly, rested his head on the glass and stared at the large black letters.

'Are you sure you guys will be okay tomorrow, brother?' he started, not looking back to the other in the room. 'The Public Force may come… That does not matter even the slightest that you're popular or not, and you know this perfectly well. Today they think you're a loyal little poser band, but your name and some of your lyrics may catch their attention in the future. _**Death in Vogue**_… don't you think they'll consider it suspicious?'

'Let them do' the other laughed as he stepped closer to the window and glanced at the same board as his brother was staring. 'That's the fucking reason we chose that name.'

'But…'

'No buts, West. Let them come. If the Mafia decide that they'll put us into their bloody List, let them do.'

'Be more quiet, brother' the blonde man hissed and pointed to the direction of the door. The other just laughed again. 'He might hear it.'

'Oh, your little pet-boy? Why? I always thought he does no harm.'

'His brother joined the Force a month ago' he whispered, ignoring the blush that started to spread across his cheeks. He was glad that they were in deep darkness. 'Yes, he is pretty oblivious, but you know…'

'You always worry too much, West. Nothing will happen tomorrow, just like nothing happened on our other concerts before. We do our little show, play shit, act like whores, the crowd loves us, we get our money and everyone is happy. It's pretty easy, isn't it?'

'Just don't do anything extreme, okay?'

The older man didn't answer, just smirked as he reread the powerful words in black.

'Loyalty is unity, huh? This slogan is so lame that it hurts and I know the higher-ups know this very well. And you know, West? That would be so damn exciting if the Mafia had come to hunt us down.'

'Do not say that name again in my house!!!' he yelled. He didn't want his brother saying that name again. It was against the Rule. The Mafia, as he said, was the Public Force's nickname and was used by citizens who disagreed with the government. They were living in an artificial island called _**Island N**_ in the middle of an ocean. Either one, because they did not know where they were. Some months after the Treaties of the Third World War were signed a few families, single men and women were chosen from countries all over the world to live peacefully together in three artificial islands – 2-2 million people in each one – namely Island C, Island N and Island X; all of the islands were Terra Nullius, no man's lands. The future citizens were transported to the Island at the same time and while they were unconscious. This happened seven years ago and they still had not left till then – leaving the Safe Zone was strictly prohibited. Their government, whose members were elected from the citizens, emphasized that during the WW3 too much biological weapons were used and the air was not healthy anymore outside the Zones. If they wanted to go outside their Zone, they could not, because the City – the official name was Capital N – was surrounded with a sky-blue semicircular glass and the only exit was guarded.

Silence. Signs of slight of anger and hurt in both brothers' eyes. They just stared into each other's eyes and said nothing. The only noise was a news reporter's monotone voice: the sign that the TV was on.

"_The new swim hall's ribbon cutting ceremony was held in District 187 today, 11 am. In Mayor K's absence the leaders of SA Corporation, the hall's building firm, held the ceremony. Two hundred schoolboys and schoolgirls from different ages were chosen to try the City's new pool. A simultaneous swimming competition was held and the winner was Peter Kirkland, age 12, in the elementary school competition and Lilli Schellenberg, age 15, was in the high school competition. War news: the United States of Northern and Latin America set…_"

Crack. Both men turned back to the door and reached to their pockets – and then sighed in relief (and annoyance) when they saw a familiar brunette standing there, his eyes averted, shaking slightly.

'I-I just wanted to say that dinner is ready. I didn't mean to disturb you. Do-don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!'

'It's okay, Feliciano' the blonde man said with an annoyed groan, though he walked to the boy's side and placed a hand to his shoulder in comfort.

'Really?' the boy asked hopefully. The men just nodded and a big smile plastered on the brunette's face, but the hurtful expression remained in his eyes. 'I made lasagne tonight! Say, Ludwig, will you like it?'

'Yes, yes, whatever. Just go and eat, okay? Brother, you are coming as well, aren't you?'

'I'll be there in a minute. Be nice to your boyfriend, West and comfort him in my absence, will you?'

'He is not my boyfriend!' the blonde man yelled, a little flushed.

'Fine, fine, just go!'

Ludwig grabbed Feliciano's shoulders and pushed him out of the room. The door was closed with a loud bang. The man smirked as he reached to his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialled a number from his quicklist without looking at the screen.

'_Gilbert dear, what makes you phone me in this time of a day? I mean it's a pleasure and so, but anyway… don't tell me you already missed me?_'

"How the hell did I phoned him of all the band members" he thought with anger growing inside him.

'Will you shut up for once, Bonnefoy?' he let out an annoyed sigh. 'West is worried that the Mafia put us into their fucking List. Tell the others that we move to Plan B.'

'_Provocation?_'

'Definitely. Because I'm- I mean we are cool like that to do it.'

'_Are you serious?_'

'I'm 100% bloody serious. Bye.'

'_Wait! Do I have to-_'

Click. He closed his phone with that egoist smirk remaining on his face. He wasn't the leader of _**Death in Vogue**_ for no reason. He would make his band more and more popular. Because he was _**that**_ awesome.

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**Did you like it? Hated it? Was it okay? Or was it terrible? You do not give a damn? Please tell me your opinion!**

**The world is **_**Orwell**_**-inspired and the band is **_**Deathstars**_**-inspired. The fic's title and the band's name are songs by DS. I imagine the guys' music style as industrial/metalcore, queercore is only a label, not a genre. :)**

**A little information about this universe: there are 3 super-forces (**_**United States of Northern and Latin America**_**; **_**European Union**_**; **_**United States of Asia**_**), Australia is ally with USNLA and Africa is a rebellion continent. There are two bigger wars in the fic's timeline: one between USNLA and EU&Asia (**you can call this Eurasia, yes ^^**), the other is between USNLA and the rebellion Africa. **

**T****hree guest appearances! ^^ If you count France into that category.**

**Next time:**** the concert, and a possible mafia!Romano.**


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